


Innocence

by abaddon (nothingbutfic)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Past Sexual Abuse, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 11:26:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12506308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingbutfic/pseuds/abaddon
Summary: Marcus is with Oliver. And Percy isn't. [Marcus/Oliver, Marcus/Percy, Percy/Oliver.]





	Innocence

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Redd, back in 2003. Reworked in 2017. Thanks to Jess for the original beta.

 

It was a sunny Saturday in August. The London sky was free of cloud, it was comfortably warm without being too hot; birds were chirping, children laughing as they dove in and out of the crowds on Diagon Alley, and a few streets away, Marcus Flint heard a knock at his door.

Setting down his mug of tea and bundling up the paper, Marcus pushed aside the plate with his half-eaten sandwich and clambered off the stool he'd been sitting on. Short of a handy dishcloth, he wiped his hands on his shorts and padded still in his slippers down the short hallway to the front door, taking a few moments to undo all the locks he'd added recently, for his own peace of mind. He opened the door and stared. Percy Weasley stood there, back stiff, glasses perched on his nose, dressed in what was presumably casual summer attire for him and something horribly retro for everyone else. Percy was dressed in light brown slacks, beige sweater, a white shirt with the collar poking out over said sweater, and finishing off the ensemble with brown brogues. Marcus teasingly thought he was probably wearing mismatched plaid socks, and then decided he really didn't want to know.

Marcus stonewalled, because he knew Percy, and he knew exactly what Percy wanted, and he didn't want him around their house any more than he could help it. "Oliver's at a training camp, Weasley, you'll have to come back later."

Before he could shut the door in Percy's stuck-up face, a foot shot out and stopped him. "I know," Percy replied airily, muffled by the door. "But I came to see you, Flint."

"Oh." Stepping back, slightly stunned and wondering what the fuck Percy could be wanting to say to him besides the obvious, Marcus let the door go and wandered back into the kitchen, hearing Percy close the door behind him and follow him through. When he turned, Percy was already sitting on a stool.

"You don't fool me, Flint," was the first thing Percy said, and Marcus bit the inside of his cheek, forcing down the impulse to just deck him. Might not have helped, but it would have given him the satisfaction.

"Really? Well, that's made my fucking day. What do you want, Weasley?"

"I'd say Oliver, but it would sound rather trite."

"And hopeless." Marcus agreed, nodding. "Not to mention desperate. He's mine and I'm not about to give him up."

"If our positions were reversed, I'd feel the same."

"So why did you _come_ here, if only to go over what we both already know?"

Percy looked around the small flat, and snorted. "All this. Every time I go out with Oliver, there's at least an hour long hymn to your very existence, and how happy you make him."

Marcus grinned. "You must really enjoy hearing that." He leaned in to sneer a bit: " _Must yank your tightly wound little chain_."

Percy matched Marcus' grin with one of his own and leaned over the kitchen bench. They were close enough to kiss, but they didn't. Percy spoke soft and quiet and collected, his breath puffing against Marcus' lips. "But you don't fool me, Flint. I know what you're capable of. Once a bully, always a bully and filth like you doesn't change."

Marcus grasped the mug of tea in one hand like it was a sacrament, needing to reassure himself with small bits of reality, and leaned back to take a swig. It was cold, now, and he grimaced for a moment. "Oliver believes me." He didn't want any intimacy with Percy: he knew that all too well, and it sank like lead in his stomach. 

"Yes, but he remembers what you're capable of. The beatings you and your friends put me through, and others like me. The name calling. The insults. The harassment. Oliver believes you, but he _trusts_ me." During the course of his speech, Percy got up from his stool and worked his way round the bench, standing just to Marcus' right, his breath hot in Marcus' ear, and a hand slowly slid its way down Marcus' front. "And I never told him all the things you did to me." 

 

Marcus swallowed, tasting remnants of bitter tea on his tongue. "What are you doing?" He tried to move, but Percy already had a firm hand on his crotch and another on his hip and he wasn't letting Marcus go anywhere, all sharp pointed, freckled face, Weasley-like-a-weasel, just off to one side and slightly out of vision. That precise voice coiled into his mind like smoke, close to his ear.

"I never told Oliver about the times you put me on my knees and how much you all laughed to see me cry, as I struggled to breathe and sucked you off, each in turn. Because you said you'd beat me if I didn't." The hand slowly unzipped his shorts and slipped inside, Percy giving a tight little chuckle as he found Marcus's bare skin and squeezed him, gently. "No underwear? Just like old times."

"You wouldn't-"

"Oh, I would. I'd suck you off, right now. That way there would be evidence to support my story, and you know as well as I do that veritaserum compels the truth but not how much is told. I can easily get around questions when it comes to trial, and the evidence I give will be quite shocking." Percy's hand began to stroke him slowly.

"You'd do that just to get at me? To get Oliver?" Marcus struggled, but he couldn't break free. "You'd dirty yourself in that way?"

"Neither of us were ever innocent, Flint," Percy said softly. "You made sure of that."

 "I'm sorry, alright?"

 Percy growled, hand coming up to slam Marcus' head down on the kitchen bench. "I don't _believe_ you!"

That was it. With a roar, Marcus wrenched himself free, elbowing Percy in the gut and then turned to face him. While Percy was still doubled over, Marcus linked his hands together, and hefted them upwards, thwacking him hard and causing him to keel over, his head pitched back. When he managed to raise himself again, Marcus staring down at him, shoulders heaving, Percy's face was a mess, blood pouring from the nostrils.

"Get the fuck out of my sight before I do some real damage." Marcus was shaking with anger, thundering at him, voice low and harsh and spitting each word out. "How hard did you use to get, Percy? You came in your precious school robes most times, because you liked being beaten. I'm sorry for what I did, but you would have just found someone else to mess with you, because that's all you think you deserve. And you want Oliver?" Marcus let out a single snort of laughter. "Trust me, he can be a bit rough in bed but he's not unkind. You'd spend about six months dating him and then dump him because you wouldn't feel worthy. And you know what? Someone who hates themselves as much as you _doesn't_ deserve him."

Percy raised himself with a certain deliberate carefulness, hands clasping at the bench to haul him upright. Once he stood, he took off his glasses and cleaned them on his sweater, which did little but smear the blood more, and popped them back on. He gave no acknowledgement of Marcus whatsoever as he strode from the kitchen, and Marcus followed to make sure he did go.

Stopping at the door, he turned slightly, not quite looking at the other man. "I could have him any time I wanted, you know. All I need to do is tell him the truth."

"Go ahead!" Marcus spat. "You know what? I think you're scared, Weasley. That even if you tell him the truth he won't break up with me. Or even if he does, it won't make him want you, will it? Why don't you fucking just do it and see."

Percy paused for a moment before replying. "Because in the end I won't need to. One day, you'll slip up and he'll see you for what you really are. An empty, brutal thug, all fists and intimidation. You can't pretend to be a decent person forever, Marcus, and all I need is one little slip." He opened up the door, and gave Marcus a thin smile. "Remember, Flint, I _a_ _m_ a Gryffindor. We always do what we think is right. Good day."

Then he was gone. Marcus returned to his sandwich and his paper and made himself another cup of tea, although he was no longer hungry. _I am a decent person_ , he thought angrily, and tried to wipe the scowl from his face. _I'm not some jumped up toady fuckstick like you_. Still, he worried, and the fear gnawed it him inside. Gryffindors always did have their own standards of decency. Maybe Oliver and Percy would agree on this, maybe Oliver would be immune in the end to any Slytherin arguments. Maybe that fucking Hat had fucked them all over at the age of eleven, and this was just the end result.

Dumping his food in the bin, he set to washing the dishes with a certain angry fervour. Oliver would be home in time for dinner, and they could go on pretending that none of this complicated, fucked up mess had ever happened.


End file.
